Lament For A Missing Destiny
by aurla0
Summary: Everything happens as a result of something. If something never happens... will the future be changed? Or is destiny destiny, no matter what happens? Komatsu/Four Heavenly Kings
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Toriko. Did you think I did?

**Warning: May contain yaoi. **

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><p><strong><span>Lament for a Missing Destiny<span>**

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><p>It's just another day, just another job.<p>

But Komatsu, head chef of one five star restaurant can't shake the feeling that something important is going to happen.

There's a meeting today with the director of the restaurant to discuss the Gourmet Assembly.

This will be one of the biggest events in his career- but somehow he feels as if something much more exciting is about to happen. _Destiny,_ he dimly registers in some part of his mind. _This feels like destiny. _

He listens to the manager and the director talk business, most of the words going way over his head. Occasionally, he is called on to speak about the planned menu.

Then the director pauses for a moment, as if to catch his breath, and looks again at the Full Course menu. He frowns a little, and opens his mouth, as if to speak.

Komatsu's breath catches in his throat, a rush of an unnameable emotion filling him. _This is right, this is what you're meant to be, this is exactly what you were born to do_.

Then the director shakes his head, and goes on, speaking once again in technical terms and business jargon that Komatsu cannot make heads nor tails of.

His heart hurts, and his hands feel numb. There is an overwhelming sense of wrongness, as if the world is tearing itself apart. He wants to die, at that moment. He wants to die if only to _make it end_.

But his manager and the director talk on, seemingly endlessly.

After the meeting, his manager, in a burst of goodwill, sends his suddenly pale head chef home for the rest of the day. It's a nice thought, but Komatsu is not in the right state of mind to properly appreciate it.

Still shaky and wracked with an unexplainable pain, Komatsu makes his way back to his apartment.

Suddenly nauseous, he runs to the washroom in time to empty his stomach into the toilet. Tears start to drip down his face, the running in streams from his eyes.

"No, no, no-" He chants over and over, choking the monosyllabic word out between sobs. He retches, but has nothing left in his stomach to throw up. It hurts so much, he doesn't understand, _why is this happening?_

They say that you can't miss what you've never had. But all Komatsu knows is that something isn't _right_, something's gone very wrong, something is missing, and the worst part is that he has no idea what it is.

He picks up his knives, trying to steady himself enough to at least prepare a simple dinner, but to his horror, his hands are trembling too much to properly hold them.

Instead, he chokes down a bowl of soup- he had made it the other day, it hadn't been particularly tasty but it was filling- but he doesn't- can't taste it.

He stares into the empty bowl, as if by looking hard enough, deeply enough, it would solve all his problems, and begins to cry again.

_Lament, lament for the missing destiny._

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><p>Somewhere not too far away, a man with blue hair sits by the river. A fishing pole in his arms, Toriko waits for something, or maybe someone. He can't be sure what he's waiting for, but he thinks that when it comes, he'll know.<p>

The whole day passes by and nothing happens. But he keeps waiting, because something is going to happen today, and he doesn't want to miss it. His instincts have never lead him wrong before.

But nothing happens.

When he goes home, confused and somewhat hurt for a reason he doesn't understand, he wonders what's wrong. _He's been left behind, he's been abandoned, why aren't they coming?_

He resorts to the tried and true method of cheering himself up: food.

As he goes through the motions of his favourite pastime, eating, his feeling of unease grows. Something is wrong, something is very wrong, and he has no idea what it is.

Toriko mechanically chews, and swallows, but he cannot taste it. He remembers this feeling, from so long ago...

He stares at his hands, lethal weapons, and wonders when he stopped using them to hold the ones he loved. He remembers when he stopped crying. _Because it's his fault, and they are never coming back again._

His eyes burn, and his heart aches for both the past and the future.

And Toriko wonders why he's always the one left behind.

_Damaged possibility, flight on broken wings._

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><p>Sunny stops and wonders at the shuddering, disgusting feeling that runs through him. It only lasts a second, but afterwards, somehow, the air doesn't seem as fresh, or the colours of the world around him as vibrant. He is... displeased.<p>

This bad mood lasts him the whole trip into the nearby town to drop off some ingredients. It only gets worse when a few no-name thugs attempt to mug him.

It's happened before, it will probably happen again, and Sunny is used to it. _Of course he is._

It doesn't mean that he isn't annoyed by these ugly, disgusting men who presume to insult _him. _ _It doesn't matter, he's calm, he's unaffected._

His hands are tightly clenched, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. It's only because it is so annoying and presumptuous of those muggers to even _look_ at him, of course.

_(If anyone is a master of lying to themselves, it is Sunny)_

And as he moves throughout the city, secure in the knowledge that he's strong, he's beautiful, he wonders why he feels so... sad. Unfulfilled.

_Give a silent wish for what should have been._

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><p>In a prison far away, a pair of reddish brown eyes blink open. An odd feeling washes over him.<p>

Seconds later, he's hit by a discordant screech. The... _sound_ is loud and extremely annoying, and under normal circumstances it would prompt Zebra to find the maker of said noise and shut him up. _Permanently_.

But this noise... it screams _wrong_. It is loud, and extremely displeasing, but somehow it is... less that he is hearing it and more that he is simply _sensing_ it. He doesn't understand exactly what about it is wrong, he has no idea what has made it, but even as he thinks further on it, he is distracted once more.

Once the echoes of the strange noise dissipate, he can hear, faint even to his ears, the sound of someone crying. Annoyingly, however, the noisy talk of the other inmates is almost drowning the soft sound out.

His eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth.

"_SHUT-THE-__**FUCK**__-UP!" _His voice echoes throughout the entire prison, reverberating against the walls, his anger and annoyance made perfectly clear. All the inhabitants instantly hush. Some idiots keep talking, but it doesn't matter, because for the first time today it's blessedly _quiet_.

He listens again, carefully.

Again, a nearly silent sound of sobbing. He doesn't like it, for some reason he _hates _the sound.

Zebra wonders who is crying. Why are they crying? They shouldn't cry.

Then he wonders why he cares. Why should he care? It's not like it has anything to do with him. But... he wants to meet the owner of that voice.

Why is he thinking about this again?

He has no idea.

_Listen for the cry of a broken dream._

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><p>Coco is closing shop for the day, navigating carefully through his sea of customers to close the door, despite the complaints of the upset throng of people. The crowd is mostly made up out of women, as usual, all clamouring for a glimpse of the ever elusive fortune-teller.<p>

He thanks the woman who helped him with his droves of customers today. She turns red, something that Coco is almost used to by now. The first time a similar situation happened, he had called in a doctor, worried that close proximity to his poison had made her ill. It had been extremely embarrassing. But not while it was happening. _I thought I'd killed another one._

But then she tries to hug him, and he instinctively pushes her away, harder than he had meant to. She hits the wall, but still she smiles at him. As if she knows what the problem is. _She doesn't know, she doesn't __**understand**__. _

She says her goodbyes and leaves, half skipping, half running down the road. He watches her progress with frozen eyes. _She __**should**__ run, before I ruin her too. _

He turns to lock up, and then it hits him.

His legs buckle, his hands come up to grip his head as he closes his eyes in pain. It is the bad feeling he has been having all day, amplified a million times and then twisted, turned into an overwhelming sense of... there is no other word for it but _wrongness. _

As a fortune-teller, Coco is a strong believer in destiny.

This... He doesn't know what it is, he doesn't understand _how it is,_ but it is not a good thing.

Opening his eyes warily, he is... _frightened _by the fact that he can almost _see _the wrongness. At least it seems to be dissipating as it spreads, but he instinctively knows that if nothing is done, it will continue to spread, continue to distort things.

He breathes out, and realizes that he cannot allow this to happen. He will not be the cause of another disaster.

_I say that as if I've fixed the first one, _he laughs bitterly to himself.

He didn't want to get involved again in the world of Bishokuya and cooking... But it appears that he has no other choice.

_Seeking the shattered future that can no longer come._

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><p><em>Lament, lament for the missing destiny.<em>

_Damaged possibility, flight on broken wings._

_Give a silent wish for what should have been._

_Listen for the cry of a broken dream._

_Seeking the shattered future that can no longer come._

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><p><strong>Authors note.<strong>

**Aurla0: ... This started off as an idea for a oneshot, a 'what if they never met' and then I thought: ... They would meet somehow anyways. **

**So this is kind of... stuff... It might seem odd at some parts, because I'm following my own idea of what the four king's past was like. It might seem angsty too... Meh. It won't stay that way forever. /Because destiny is destiny, no matter what happens!**

**Please Review~!**


	2. Chapter 2: Fragment Fragment

DISCLAIMER: I definitely do not own Toriko.

**Warning: May contain yaoi. Or shounen-ai**

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><p><strong>Lament For A Missing Destiny<strong>

**Fragment . Fragment**

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><p>Almost everyone was quiet today, none of the usual chatter and fights breaking out over the plain and limited amount of food. It was almost a miracle, if you didn't account for the fact that it was happening in one of the highest security prisons in the world, where some of the worst criminals of the Gourmet Age were held. It was an extremely strange occurrence, but it almost made sense, because both the inmates and rowdy guards weren't the kind of people who would hush for any reason other than fear.<p>

And so, today, for some reason unknown to all the inhabitants, Zebra wasn't just angry (because they all knew that he was _always _angry), he was _extremely _pissed off, to a point that none of the inmates or guards had seen before. And he was taking it out on everyone and everything around him. And _everything_ included not only the prison beasts and execution beasts that they would soon have to replace, but also, apparently, the prison itself.

As yet another angry bellow of _**"Sound Bazooka!" **_resounded throughout the prison, with accompanying deafening noise and explosion, Deputy Warden Ohban wondered why they hadn't just kicked this guy out of the prison. It would save them an incredible amount in repairs, and maybe the guards could get to _sleep_ for once!

Oh. Then he remembered the A-class dangerous creature thing. And the wanted criminal thing. And the fact that _Warden Love would not let him out under any circumstances!_

He briefly contemplated the possibility of slapping some sense back into the Warden. And then he remembered that she had never had any sense in the first place. God, why was he the only sane one in this entire prison?

Then he wondered if he could talk Zebra into not destroying the _prison which is hanging by a fairly thin connection off a cliff above a forest of spikes! _Without dying, preferably. Probably not.

The shouts of the men under his command as they rushed to fix Honey Prison's newest hole (one of many) aggravated his migraine once more, and he groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

If he begged, he wondered, would IGO be willing to take Zebra back?

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><p>Toriko stared at the empty plate sitting on the table before him. He had eaten enough food to feed an army of men, but still he felt empty. No taste was <em>right<em>, none of them were what he wanted. _(The __**need **__that echoed throughout him, ingrained in his cells)_

Just moments before, that plate had held a pie made by the premier chef of the restaurant he had been eating at, a pie containing the 'Fruit of the Rainbow' that he had worked hard to collect.

His mind was still stuck on the memory of the Troll Kongs. They were... a colony, a group supporting each other and working together. _A perfect balance._

And the crushing pain and loneliness that he had managed to ignore for so long came crashing back down, aided by the unexplainable _hurt_ that had been plaguing him since a few days back.

He frowned slightly, remembering the taste of the fruit. He had added it to his 'Full Course', but... why didn't it make him happy? It was a step towards his goal... wasn't it? _(God stopped a war-delicious food could bring a world together-if I get delicious ingredients will they come back will they stay) _ It had been a truly astounding flavour, but somehow... hollow.

_It was delicious, _he thought,_ but it should have been... better? _Then he wondered why he thought that.

Because of the nagging feeling he had whenever he ate even a single bite of food?

Because of the emptiness that he felt no matter what he ate?

Because it wasn't so much that the ingredient wasn't good enough, but more as if... it hadn't been... prepared well enough? As if... it hadn't been the right che-

And then the door slammed open with all the urgency of an restaurant manager eager to promote his business in the eyes of the public. And if that meant sucking up to the 'Glutton' of the Four Heavenly Kings, who, admittedly, was quite the intimidating man, then by god, he was going to do it!

And Toriko, whose instincts and reflexes had recently gone haywire _(as if he was supposed to be fighting to protect something... or someone)_,was instantly distracted by the loud noise and sudden movement. With his train of thought so abruptly cut off, he almost instantly forgot about it. _So close..._

Eventually, after much sucking up and annoying flattery from the staff and manager, Toriko was left alone in the large banquet room. He could easily hear distant footsteps in the hallways, and muffled voices. Every now and then, he would hear bright laughter.

He stared at the extra chair that he had requested to be placed beside his, and wondered... why?

And with each passing second, never getting the answers he was searching for, never understanding what he was even _looking_ for, what was _missing_, he felt more alone than ever before.

His eyes burned, but Toriko would not cry. His hands involuntary clenched, nails digging into his palms.

_Never again._

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><p><em><strong>He finds himself in a white room... again. Like every time he is in here, there are no windows, no doors. He's small again, weak. Cuts, sores, and bruises litter his arms, along with the scars from too-rough hands with sharp, sharp syringes. He can't move, he can't talk, and all he can see is white, white, white and he's so scared, because he knows what comes next, as it always does. Panicked, he runs his hands over the seamless wall, searching, searching for the place where it opens into his prison. He can't find it, he can never find it, and sometimes, he wonders if the hidden door really is never in the same place twice.<strong>_

_**Then some part of the wall opens up on invisible seams, a chunk of the wall swinging inwards. He sees something outside, is that colour? Black computer screens, and then he catches a glimpse of the blue calendar, marking off the days with red Xs. **_

_**And then the Doctor comes in-**_

_But then the scenery melts away, white, empty walls and terrifying memories of weakness dissipating into the somewhat familiar surroundings of Gourmet Fortune._

_The deserted streets and the closed doors tell him that it must be time for the wild beasts to come out. He wonders what he's doing here, and how his nightmare was disrupted._

_Then, as he wanders aimlessly up the street, he catches a glimpse of a tall figure, standing right outside the train station._

_For a second he wonders if it's__** that**__ person-__**he hadn't meant it, he hadn't meant it, oh god he was a monster, he hurt him he hurt him-**__, but that thought is quickly swept away, buried under years of regret and pain and self-hatred. _

_Shortly afterwards, he sees the short blue hair, and easily identifies his visitor. But... somehow, though he hadn't thought that... person would have come, it hurts. -**You're disgusting!- **But then again, Coco is good at pushing off pain, especially emotional pain, and somehow, he continues walking._

_**Toriko? **__He wonders what the other Heavenly King is doing in his dream. And what Toriko, who never seems to be without some crazy adventure, is __**doing **__in his dream. Because he can't have come for him, because there's no way that Toriko could have forgiven him. _

_Then he sees the other, much smaller figure standing behind his (brother?friend?) and then, for some reason, he knows that this is important somehow, that this is something he needs to know. He doesn't understand the urge, the need to see this, to find out more about the other person, but he will follow his 'foresight'._

_So he continues to walk towards the pair, noting the short black hair and small stature of the unknown. He sees the smaller (man?boy?) jump in fright at something that Toriko says to him. Toriko laughs. He seems happy. Happier than when..._

_Then Coco realizes that he can't hear anything that they're saying, and wishes he was close enough to read their lips. Because he needs to know, he needs to know the name of this person that seems to be so important-_

_And the black haired one turns in his direction, and Coco regards him carefully. An unfortunate nose, wide eyes and pale skin. He wonders why Toriko reacts this way to him, what makes him so special. Why he feels this urge to talk to him, to look at him, to do __**something**__!_

_Then Toriko moves his mouth in the ever-familiar patterns of the one word that Coco will always be able to recognize coming from his mouth. __**Food**__._

_And the (man?boy?) lights up. He smiles radiantly up at Toriko, and begins to talk rapidly and enthusiastically about something or other. Coco is concentrated instead on the way his eyes brighten, his face glows, the way he turns from plain to something beautiful. The way he gestures with his hands as he speaks, the way he seems to, as far as Coco can make out, talk about food preparation with such eager enthusiasm. And that's how Coco realizes he's a chef. _

_Coco thinks he's fallen in love at first sight._

_And as he moves closer, he can almost make out what the two are saying. Puffer fish whales? _

_Toriko's grin almost splits his face. He speaks again. _

'_You know, there are a lot of wild beasts in this town.'_

_The chef looks terrified, if mostly because of Toriko's characteristically nonchalant way of saying such things._

'_T-Toriko-san!'_

_Toriko laughs it off the way that he always did. But then his eyes grow serious, not that the chef seems to notice, the way he's clinging to Toriko's leg._

'_Don't worry, I'll protect you, Ko-_

This is the way that Coco wakes up. Always alone, in an empty room, in his empty house, in the town of Gourmet Fortune.

Usually it means that his nightmares have even more power over him, but today, after that dream, all Coco can think about is that chef. His smile, his child-like excitement.

He needs to know who the chef was. He needs to find him, because there's something about him that pulls Coco, because the only time that he's felt fulfilled since the wrongness was during that dream. He contemplates the way that his chronic nightmare was ended, just to have that dream about... the future? A future? It was some sort of premonition, he knows that for sure. He needed to know _something_. He _needs _to know about that chef.

And now he _knows_ he can't stay here in this town for even a moment longer, because with every minute he procrastinates, the chef could be anywhere.

But Coco will find him, because something like destiny is at his back, urging him on.

And if nothing else, he has to find him because Toriko deserves to be happy.

So Coco starts searching.

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><p>Komatsu's taken a couple days off, finally using his previously unused vacation time.<p>

He spends most of his time in bed, crying. The blankets are warm, but he still feels so cold, so empty. He's scared of this, he's scared of his unpredictable emotions, and he's deathly afraid of being unable to cook. Because the shaking and inexplicable pain and sadness _isn't going away_, and he's terrified when he realizes that he doesn't think that it will. Because He needs to hold his knives without dropping them, he needs to prepare the ingredients, he needs to _cook_!

Cooking is his _life_, and if that's taken away from him, he has no idea what he's going to do.

He's scared, and he's alone, and for some reason, he's missing something he doesn't think he ever had in the first place.

He shivers, and pulls the blankets around him more.

It's so _cold_...

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><p><strong>Authors note.<strong>

**Aurla0: Ah, shoot. The first two are in past tense and the last two are in present... Well, I think it works out fine in the end.**

**Sunny has just been ignored, because he was hiding somewhere so as not to be put in his chapter. Ah, well, I'll get him eventually.**

**I meant for things to start really moving this chapter, but the characters wanted to procrastinate some more.**

**Please review~!**


	3. Chapter 3: Dream

DISCLAIMER: Seriously, I do _not_ own Toriko.

**Warning: May contain yaoi or shounen-ai. **

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><p><strong>Lament For A Missing Destiny<strong>

**~Dream~**

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><p>It's been two weeks. Two agonizing weeks of strange pain, sudden attacks of weakness. He had called a doctor, but still there was no explanation.<p>

It's been two weeks. And, finally, Komatsu cooks. The tremors are almost gone- but the memory is still fresh in his mind and he is careful, very careful with his hands. He isn't using any rare ingredients, nor those that require special preparation. After all, those are the most expensive, and even _with_ the extensive, high-tech equipment at his restaurant, cooking a special-preparation ingredient is almost impossible.

He hasn't gone back to work, if only because he doesn't want to face the questions that will undoubtedly greet him there. It's cowardly, he knows, but he cannot bring up the strength to return. He isn't strong enough. He isn't special, isn't strong, isn't- isn't- (he cannot find the word, the person, that _name!_).

And so he just tries to appreciate the fact that he's _cooking_ again.

A sauce is bubbling on the stove as he carefully peels an eggfruit, the leathery, thick 'shell' coming off easily under his knife. He knows these ingredients, the best ways to cook them, the best combinations to be made, like the back of his hand.

But when he sits down and eats, he is struck by another wave of yearning, of abandonment, because _**this is not good enough**_. (it should be better, so much better.)

And this hurts, because the only thing Komatsu is good at, the only reason he's worth anything is cooking, and if he cannot cook, what use is he? He's just a chef, one of millions. Just part of the crowd.

Komatsu fights through the pain and loss and sadness, because he can't keep doing this. He can't keep crying forever, he has to do something, he has to. He needs to cook, even if there is no-one there to cook for. _(there should be.)_

Why is he alone? What is happening to him?

He doesn't know, but he holds back his tears, refusing to succumb once more to despair.

When the phone rings, bringing a request from his boss, the manager, he accepts it, because at least this way he can be sure that someone knows he exists and thinks that he is useful.

He can't keep crying forever. He wants... He wishes he could be stronger. He wishes he could be more interesting. He wishes he could be important to someone. _(someone holding him, safely carried by another and knowing he's protected.) _He dreams.

Please... Just this once, can't he be strong?

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><p>Against a grayish wall, in Honey prison, miraculously hanging off a tall cliff, Zebra rests after his recent rampage- because although he has consumed the execution beasts, his attacks take an incredible amount of energy out of him- and listens for the quiet voice that comes from somewhere far away.<p>

It's not crying anymore, which is good, because it means that the voice has finally manned up and decided to do something instead of whining. (Zebra doesn't admit that he was worried, because he is Zebra, the oldest of the Four Heavenly Kings, and the strongest (in his mind, of course). The first fact is one that is not widely known, only remembered by the other Heavenly Kings and Ichiryuu. He suspects Toriko has forgotten already, the dumbass.) But damn, he feels useless, locked up here without anything to do. He couldn't stop the voice from crying.

This reminds him of where he is (in prison) and what he's doing (not much). Sure, he has grown stronger fighting against the beasts held in the prison to keep inmates in line, but other than that he has done nothing. Damn, he really needs to get out, to train, to test himself, to learn, to improve. The world believes in the survival of the fittest, and stagnation means death. And he does _not_ want to die.

... What was he thinking about again?

Why did they put him in here, anyways? He can't remember. (it's not as if it's that important anyways- nowhere near his priorities. These happen to include **food, brothers, food,** **growing stronger, **and, occasionally, _**kill that annoying fuck**_**. **)

He sighs and leans back against the wall, checking once again to see whether his voice has recovered (he's never quite sure whether it's his throat or his voicebox that gives out- all he knows is that something hurts in that general area, and it's fucking annoying. Damn limits.)

Then a familiar voice catches his attention. _Is that... _He listens closely. _It is._

The voice talks for a while with that warden guy... what was his name, Obban? Ooban? Before leaving with a hearty 'I'll be back!' at a volume that is most definitely meant for Zebra to hear, seeing as his ears are still ringing after five minutes.

Zebra frowns, having many old memories of that voice, not all of them good. (Actually, most of them are pretty bad, especially that one with those giant bears and the acid hornets and the honey.)

Now, what the hell was the old man doing here?

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><p><em>Where... Where was he?<em>

_**Green, forest/jungle/Garden**_

_He knew this place- didn't he? But..._

_**Blue, blue hair smiles rough happy warmth**_

_Oh. He knew this person. But wasn't it wrong? Hadn't something gone-_

_**Angry-strength sound red anger protection**_

_What? This was- wasn't he locked up (__he didn't want him to be locked up not like he was in that cold white room __**pain **__no) __What was this? And he knows who is next, but doesn't want to see it, doesn't want to hurt anymore_

_**White. White stubbornness, pride, colour, brightness, warm days and hushed conversations and falling asleep together, Happiness.**_

_..._

_**Happy warm full delicious together blue red white black-**_

_It's changing... what- no! He knew this place knew it engraved it in memory forever please no-_

_**Waterfall anger shouting fight White White**_

_And it is getting out of hand he knows it's getting out of hand they never had gone so far before no-one else was there no he doesn't want to see it, he doesn't want it to happen again_

_**Anger, anger poison uncontrolled rage **_

_He doesn't want to see it!_

_**Poison anger, anger, attack**_

_No!_

_**White- falls down down down**_

_Ohgod I hurt him I hurt him no-no I I hurt him no no no please I didn't I did I'm a monster_

_**Fear anger anger fear pain hurt (**__**why why why did you do this how could you)**_

_How could he?_

_**And White leaves (**__**turns his back walks away)**__** because of him it's all his fault Blue is hurt is sad Red doesn't talk Red leaves- Blue- no why? how could he? How could he?**_

_He screams and screams and screams because it's his fault that Blue- that Red- that White- no!_

_NO!_

"Sir! SIR! Are you alright?"

And he awakes with a gasp, to see the conductor shaking him, the other passengers of the train looking at him, worried. They're worried about him. Him.

"You were shaking pretty badly- nightmare?"

_No, _he thinks, while smiling and reassuring the conductor that (yes he is alright, he's fine), _no. _

Because all his dreams are memories, and he deserves to have them haunt him. The wrongness has just... intensified them.

But he deserves it. It's all his fault.

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><p>A man travels past a waterfall, close enough that he can feel the light spray as it hits him. His long hair is damp- the fact seems to annoy him.<p>

He pays no attention to the bright rainbow visible in the swirling mist, nor the beauty of the landscape.

He just keeps moving on, without turning back.

_(Where did all the colours go?)_

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><p>It's been two weeks, and Toriko is over it. Over the inexplicable pain, the loneliness, and the mysterious yearning he does not, cannot understand. <em>Over it.<em>

It's in the past now _(like all the other things that have happened that he tries to bury deep, deep down) _and it doesn't matter anymore. The past is the past, and Toriko only looks forward to the future.

He's still searching for the right taste though- that sensation, that flavour that echoes, resonates in his very cells. Why hasn't he found it? He always thought that it would come all so quickly, so naturally. Evolution, the old man called it. He doesn't care what it's called, he just wants- something.

But he'll keep moving on, seeking the future, some taste that seems just beyond his reach. _Just beyond. _Always elusive.

_(is the universe taunting him?)_

Toriko feels numb.

And when he turns around, perhaps hoping to catch some glimpse of someone following just behind him, he wonders if this is really how it's supposed to be.

But it's the past- and that can't affect him anymore.

Right?

_(and he knows he's doing badly when he can't even believe himself when he says he's fine.)_

* * *

><p><em>Where am I going?<em>

_I wish..._

_I want..._

_I hope..._

_**I dream...**_

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><p><strong>Authors Note.<strong>

**Aurla0: I suppose you have now discovered that I am really bad with putting out new chapters. I'm sorry about this one... I went on vacation, and thought out two chapters. And then I realized that, crap, I really needed to put a chapter (this one) between my second chapter and the new ones I made.**

**And then I got writers block.**

**So, I'm really sorry that people had to wait so long.**

**I'll work hard on the next chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4: Shards

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Toriko

**Warning: May contain yaoi or shounen-ai.**

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><p><strong>Author's Note.<strong>

A bunch of little bits from important characters. This happens around the same time as Dream. Enjoy it, because I'm mostly going to use the Four Heavenly Kings and Komatsu for the POV's. Personally, I think it's more interesting that way.

I considered putting Ootake in here, but I decided against it.

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><p><strong>Lament For A Missing Destiny<strong>

**/\ Shards /\**

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><p>Ichiryuu notices things.<p>

It's what he is good at, because all the students of Acacia specialized in one thing other than monstrous strength. He notices things, and makes connections, and _knows_ things. Secrets, conspiracies, recipes, plots- it doesn't matter what, he either knows about it or wants to know. It's partly how he became who he is today, President of the IGO.

So if, for example, when Toriko is called in to collect the Rainbow Fruit (Partly because Ichiryuu wants to see how Toriko has grown since he has last seen him and partly to give the youngest of his boys a present- he hasn't seen him in so long after all.), if Toriko looked pale, or tired, or worried, Ichiryuu would know about it. If he was drawn, with shadows under his eyes and a tight, almost fake smile on his face, the president of the IGO would have learned about it. If Toriko seemed conflicted, hurt, or painfully nostalgic, then he would find out, somehow.

And Ichiryuu notices.

But why? Why is the happiest of his boys unhappy? (Because it works like this: Toriko forgets and forgets and pretends when he cannot forget any longer, cannot forget anymore.)

Why has Zebra started acting up? (Boredom perhaps- but Ichiryuu knows better. Zebra has been bored for a long, long time, alone, separated from the others.)

Why has Coco started moving? (The one who attempted to stay in the past, hide in the past, is finally moving towards the future. He wonders whether this is a good thing.)

And where has Sunny, the fragile one, the beautiful one, the youngest, gone? (If Coco and Sunny meet it will be disastrous- hopefully IGO's resources can circumvent that catastrophe before it happens- if it is going to happen.)

It doesn't make sense- He's missing a piece of the puzzle, he knows it.

He closes his eyes and remembers the day it all broke apart. And Ichiryuu remembers the four boys from his memories, so young, so fragile, and sees within those pain-filled eyes the remnants of their shattered future.

_Where did I go wrong? _He wonders. _Where did I go wrong... _

But there's no use dwelling on past mistakes and broken dreams and hearts and happiness, for there's work to be done, plans to make. Everything for the new generation, the children, his boys. Their paths may not be smoothed over, their travels, their training dangerous, and their hearts unguarded (_for now, he hopes. For now.), _but that does not mean that he doesn't watch them. It doesn't mean he never aids them from the sidelines. It doesn't mean that he doesn't care.

So whatever catastrophic wrong has been wrought to the four, to his boys, _(because he knows something's wrong, and it what happens to one affects the others)_ he will fix it.

Because that's what he owes them as a parent.

_(What Ichiryuu doesn't realize is that this has much farther-reaching consequences than just the Four Heavenly Kings. The good thing is, no-one else quite realizes this either.)_

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><p>Far away, searching for ingredients in the wilderness, another man contemplates another piece of the puzzle.<p>

He has nothing to do with the Four Heavenly Kings nor the cook that affects them so- yet. But still he notices, still he wonders at this strange occurrence.

The man stops hunting, taking a break after bringing down the beast he came to the forest for. While he prepares it, he considers the phenomenon he has observed. How curious, that slight flickering light. Those four beacons, meant to lead, are lost themselves- irony indeed. Five lost flames, five confused people. Interesting... How bright the beacons, how warm the light. Vaguely he wonders as to what they must be feeling.

As he absently allows the fire to burn higher, bringing out the full flavour of the ingredients he has gathered, his mind is far away, checking up on the five spirits.

They have moved- are moving once again, but he had expected that. One seems to be in about the same spot as they have been for the entire time he has been keeping tabs on them. Said location strikes a chord in his memory- but he cannot quite seem to remember where he knows it from. Another, one that has stayed put for a while, is moving- he cannot tell where, but their path, though somewhat random, seems about to collide with another, one who has been constantly moving. The hunter notes that he has been able to name almost all the places the latter flame has been to- this is another fighter, another hunter. A Bishokuya. A fourth is moving around seemingly randomly, but their destination, coincidentally, is the same place that the flickering light has been for the past week or so. Unfortunately for them, the flickering light, however small a flame it may have been, has grown, stopped flickering (as much), and started to move, and that beacon will arrive to find that the area has been vacated. He is half sure that the last beacon, the one that travels randomly, purposelessly, is also a Bishokuya- but he cannot quite tell.

The hunter finds himself surprised by the amount of interest he holds towards these flames- they are small, nothing next to him or other members of his organization, but still... How odd it is that they can capture his attention for so long, he who is always bored. This world of endless ennui... He has finally found something to occupy his time.

Why can he feel their emotions, their resolves, their existences, from so far away? Such a strange thing, such strange people. He wants to meet one of them- and he is not one to wait for 'somedays' and 'eventually'. But for now, he has other things to do, other work. His gaze briefly flickers over the food he is preparing, before refocusing on the five lights.

Staajyun watches the flames, their flickering light entertaining him. Perhaps one day they may burn hotter, burn higher, become strong enough to challenge him. They have potential...

He wonders what will happen when they finally meet.

A thousand flames are reflected within his eyes, but these five interest him. Behind him, the forgotten fire burns, tiny men of fire challenging demons of white flame, endless battles twisting through the burning pyre.

(_He is flame, the one who burns and destroys. But what does that mean for those who catch his interest?_)

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><p>Far away, a long time ago, there was a girl on a mountaintop, all alone.<p>

Her master had left her, hade gone down into the canyon to find 'Melk Stardust', a grindstone that supposedly had no equal. He left with only a smile and a wave, like always. And she, like always, had trusted in his strength and waited for him to come home. Waited for him to come back to her.

It's been years now, and she has grown into a young woman. He still hasn't returned. And she is terrified.

She doesn't know where he is, although she knows that he should be in Heavy Hole still. But she remembers several times when he had become sidetracked, moving on to other places and materials quickly, heedless of his original task. Worse, she does not know how he is doing. Whether he is alive or dead or injured, why he has not returned, why he has not come back to her like he always has!

This is what she worries about. But heedless of her worry, there is work to be done. So she calls herself Melk the Second, if only in her mind, her original name forgotten many years ago, and tries to continue her master's work. Even if this is a falsehood, even if he never acknowledged her as a true knife-sharpener or his successor, she has to do this. Because the orders for knives are still pouring in, regardless of her master's presence, and she cannot allow his reputation to be tarnished by his absence.

She works tirelessly on improving her skills by examining her master's knives, their flawless edges and perfectly sharp blades captivating her. Her knives are toys compared to his, the knives she sharpens hopelessly blunt. But- but... She still trains, and works.

And one day, something odd happens.

She wakes up early in order to check up on the new knives and orders that should be coming in today. By early, she means extremely early, as she normally wakes early in order to start work early as well.

She walks down the huge stairs, designed by her master for himself, and pauses. Something is calling her, demanding her attention. Somehow, with a strange certainty, she knows what it is. She grabs a knife from the wall as she passes, one specifically created for its ability to create thin slices. This is a blade of her own design, made for this single purpose despite its usefulness in cooking.

She bends down and carefully cuts along the thin outline of a square on the ground. After finishing her last, precise cut, she lifts up the square of rock to reveal the box underneath.

Inside the box is one of her master's greatest treasures. A shard of the fang of Derous, the dragon that ruled the entire world once upon a time.

And it is calling to her.

She wonders why as she carries it over to her work area. She tests how hard it is on one of her best grindstones- nothing happens. As she suspected. As she looks around the room wondering if she has anything that will stand up to the fang, she wonders: What, then, is she supposed to do with the fang if she has nothing to sharpen it with-

Her gaze lands on a glittering golden stone in the back corner. Her eyes widen- she remembers this, she remembers when she got it. Her master had given it to her shortly before he left to search for...

"Melk's Stardust..." She whispers in awe as she approaches it. This... Maybe this will work!

For the first time, she thinks that she may be able to do this.

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><p><strong>Please Review~!<strong>


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